Category: OTHER COMPOSITIONS

• June 6, 2011

  My Wife, Vyasdeva and Other Creatures

  Date and Place: Sometime, somewhere Dear Son: As far as I could make out, your Ma wrote two letters last night. The event was innocuous enough and you are surely wondering what on earth my reason could be for assigning it headline status. But no my son, I haven’t gone ga-ga. So, let me proceed…
• June 6, 2011

  Is Life Worth Living? It Depends Upon the Liver

  Professor Lionel W. McKenzie, who supervised my PhD thesis (jointly with Professor James W. Friedman) at the University of Rochester, NY, walked in on a spring morning to the departmental lounge for his cup of coffee, which he used to consume jointly with the New York Times. There were a few others present in the…
• June 5, 2011

  To Sir With Love

  Words, however beautifully strung together, are ultimately a weak device for capturing as complicated an object as a human being. Sizes of vocabularies notwithstanding, words are arithmomorphic or discrete by nature, while life is a continuum. A piano recital, irrespective of the quality of the performance, …
• June 5, 2011

  Plutonic Love

  A squall signals the arrival of rain. It is a typical monsoon afternoon in Kolkata. Torrents of water begin to stream down the facades of grey buildings lined along Mahatma Gandhi Road. Automobiles honk at each other in vain. Traffic coagulates. Crowds of people jostle against one another ,,,
• June 5, 2011

  Tangerine

  Once I leave this body Won’t I ever come back to the world again? I hope I do return
• June 5, 2011

  Dedication

  Ask me not, when, nor whichever song, To whom I had gifted, that’d all be wrong, On the wayside it gathers dust,
• June 5, 2011

  Lost My Count of Time

  Lost my count of time and the miles that travelled I The lands I went avisiting and let my purse go dry
• June 4, 2011

  Hasn’t Your Mind Yet

  Hasn’t your mind yet begun to rock, my dear
• May 28, 2011

  Waiting for Priya

  It was a typical winter evening in Kolkata. Velvety and mellow. Yet Mrinal was sweating. He had been sweating since the previous day. Lovely Priya had promised to visit his home. She was a classmate in college. Mrinal had been staring endlessly at her since college started. Inside as well as outside the college.
• April 20, 2011

  The Philosophy of Poverty vs The Poverty of Philosophy: Travails of West Bengal

  Neither Karl Marx, who authoured The Poverty of Philosophy, nor M. Proudhon, who wrote The Philosophy of Poverty in 1847 could perceive how relevant the titles of their works would be for the state of West Bengal’s Assembly elections 164 years later. It is not as though the subject matter of the controversy between them…